Chapter 24 - Wings of Lies

I woke to fuzzy voices and a stinging in my ear.

“A few more minutes. If she doesn’t wake up, we’ll leave.”

“Whatever you say, prince. I’m just the backup.”

“Go corral Cacus and Bael from their joy hunt.”

Footsteps faded, and the pressure on my ear resumed. I winced, daring to peek through my lids.

Aspen knelt over me, focused on the side of my face and ear. I stared at him, refusing to shift against the lumpy ground, while he was oblivious to my awareness.

He pressed a cloth against my tender skin and used his other hand to wipe away dried blood.

“If I ask you a serious question, will you answer me with the truth or lie to me?” he asked, continuing to tend to my ear.

So much for being oblivious.

I stayed silent.

He shook his head. “The Drune didn’t do this to your ear.”

“That’s not a question.”

He slowly met my gaze, intense and drilling. “This is a clean cut. Done by a knife.”

“Those aren’t questions either.”

“Brock did this to you.”

Well, he may be deadly, arrogant, and ruthlessly loyal to a terrible queen, but he wasn’t dumb.

“Lucille did Brock do this to you?” he demanded.

“Does it matter?” I sat up, making him push back.

Soon, I’d be rotting in a body pit. That was if I didn’t escape.

I stared into his face and let him hear the bluntness of my thoughts. “I don’t know who you were before or what other confusing, contradictory memories I’ve forgotten. But I’m glad they’re gone. I’ve had enough of your flavor of caring.”

He lapsed into silence, gazing at me with a pissy expression. His chin strobed with a red light until it held firm to a soft, menacing glow.

Standing, I swayed, my exhaustion momentarily forgotten. Aspen's tense stance hinted at an internal struggle as he battled conflicting emotions. Eventually, the red glow subsided, and he stepped forward to steady me. I recoiled, pushing him away.

“I don’t need or want your help.”

His chiseled jaw tightened like a vise, each muscle visibly straining under the weight of his mounting irritation. “We’re leaving. Brock!” he called out. “I’m driving, and our prisoner is sitting next to me.”

Wonderful.

I sighed, plopping myself down up front, emotionally and physically drained. Aspen took his place. The carriage wobbled, the back doors shut, and the horses moved.

He ignored me. I ignored him to concentrate on my power.

When I was angry, the energy coiled at the surface, making itself known through the itches. But now, I had to concentrate and dive deep to find the coiling power. It hummed faintly. I tried to pull at it, but my eyes drooped with the effort. I released it. Whatever I did earlier had taken a lot out of me. Those black flames were something else entirely, and the music—the addictive, vengeful melody—consumed every thought and action. If not for the drain, Aspen and I would’ve fought to the death. I wouldn’t have stopped. I wanted to kill him. Guilt, anger, joy—none of it sparked at that thought. Only numbness remained until the lingering effects of this drain faded.

We drove through the Drune Forest into a field of long golden grass. Its metallic strands reflected in the beating sunshine, brushing away the moist, cool air of the lightless forest. I just reached my hand out, slightly curious if they’d feel metallic. But nope, the softness tickled my palm.

I leaned my head back against the wooden planks of the carriage, peering up into the clear blue sky. Two black specs flew high above.

“Why don’t we eat birds for a change?” I pointed, curiosity loosening my lips.

Aspen yanked on the horse’s reins, jerking them to a stop, about knocking me out of my seat. “Those aren’t birds.”

“Then what⁠—”

“Brock! We got company,” Aspen called out.

The doors to the back of the carriage slammed open. With the lack of side-to-side swaying, it seemed the demons were staying inside.

“Do not speak, understood?” Aspen said, taking off his cloak and handing it to me. “Cover yourself.”

I stared at his outreaching hand and dangling cloak, wondering what would happen if I didn’t, gazing back at the sky. The black specs were larger and coming fast.

“Lucille!”

I snapped my attention back to him and rolled my eyes, putting it on.

Two loud resounding booms echoed in the field, causing a cloud of dust. Once it cleared, one man and woman—or male and female—sauntered over to us. Aspen stepped down the stairs of the carriage, blocking me from view, while Brock stood off to the side.

“Look what we have here, Milda. I told you it’d be entertaining to see who was with this carriage.”

I peered around Aspen, wanting to see who spoke. He looked to be in his thirties, not that that meant anything, with short golden hair and smooth, tanned skin—average. What wasn’t average was the armor they wore and the female standing next to him.

She stood tall, covered in the palest blue, almost white, colored armor. Silver rivets held together each tiny piece of metal that made up the body-hugging uniform. Red corkscrews tumbled behind her head, held back by intricate braids. The vibrancy of the color melded well with the deep caramel of her face, her ruby lips, and the three red-hilted daggers at her side.

“Yes, Brocky boy seems to have aged since we last saw him. And we get the attractive, worthless demon prince to add to the disappointing Fallen scum,” she tittered.

“So nice to see you, General Tavean and Colonel Milda,” Aspen said, sounding the least bit amused by her condescending tone.

Colonel Milda approached him, poking him in the chest. “Does that scowl ever come off your face, Prince Aspen? Or do you need help with that?” The salacious tilt to her ruby lips screamed desperate.

A bolt of bitter jealousy spear-headed through my drained state—a feeling I did not like.

“Remove your hand before I do it for you, colonel,” Aspen said as he gripped the pommel of his sword.

But she didn’t remove her hand. No. She dared to place her entire palm on his chest.

“Oh, no, no, prince. We wouldn’t want to start a war, would we? Not with your queen a prisoner to her own land. We’d slaughter you.” Her words may have been a warning, but the eager gleam in her purple-ringed eyes told me she wanted war.

Aspen’s spine stiffened. “Back up, Milda.”

“Oh, dropping my fancy new title so soon?” she pouted.

I hope she didn’t think that was cute.

“Don’t test me, Milda. Back up,” Aspen warned.

But the foolish female didn’t.

“Milda, let the poor defenseless prince go. We are here for a job, you know,” Tavean said, moving closer.

“Oh, but I think the prince needs some fun,” she said, rubbing the stiff leather covering his chest.

My eyes zeroed in on that hand. “Remove your gaudy nails,” I snapped, glaring over Aspen’s shoulder.

Milda jerked her gaze to mine, still touching him.

“Who do you have behind you, prince?” Tavean asked. He leaned to the side to get a better view.

Aspen shifted, finally side-stepping her unwanted touch, blocking me from Tavean’s view but opening more space for Milda to scrutinize me, especially my eyes. Before I could duck my head, she smiled. “Oh Tavean,” Milda sang. “I think I found who we’ve been looking for.”

“Fuck!” Aspen snapped, pulling out his sword before either one could grab me. The metal erupted in vicious blue flames, pushing Milda and Tavean back. “Guard Lucille, if something happens to her, the queen will kill you, and if she doesn’t, I will.” Then he swung his flaming sword at Tavean and sent a fireball at Milda’s face, forcing them back further.

Heavenly shit.

Brock took Aspen’s place as he faced off against the two angels. I glanced up into the darkening sky. Thunder boomed with the first clash of sword on sword, snapping my attention back to Aspen. This fight was different from the one with the Hellhounds. All three luscelered, dodging each other’s swords and daggers. Lightning shot down, hitting the spot where Aspen last stood.

Aspen smirked at Milda.

She shrieked. More lightning streaked to the ground, each flash hitting the previous spot Aspen stood in.

Why is the Tenebrous Prince fighting a Power and Dominion from the Ethereal Military for you?

I jolted at his chilly voice, surprised to hear his voice in my head while awake.

Can you see what I see?

Yes, while we’re connected. Why do they want you? he demanded.

I don’t know. But I wondered if I’d be better off with them since they were angels.

He scoffed in my head. You wouldn’t. You’d be a prisoner in a different kingdom I couldn’t help you escape from. Now turn your head to the left, he said.

I did.

Do you see that path past the field and in the trees?

Yes.

A little further in is the Tenebrous tripwire.

Why does that matter?

I’m getting you out of your mess. The angels won’t take you if you cross it.

Why?

It’s a declaration of war.

I stared at the path. It wasn’t too far away, but it wasn’t near either.

The only problem you face is you need the prince with you to cross it, he said.

I glanced at Aspen right when two daggers slipped from his belt, and two more daggers flew from Tavean’s hands toward his face.

“Behind you!” I called out at the same time Brock yelled, “Telekinetic bastard!”

Aspen blocked the first two daggers with his sword and dogged one of the ones hovering in the air, only to be stabbed in the side by the fourth.

How do I accomplish that when he’s busy fighting?

They’re fighting over you. So take yourself out of the equation and sneak to the tripwire first. Then play your hand. Afterward, stay with the prince, and I’ll help you escape tonight. Hopefully, I’ll have answers about Saraqael by then. If not, I’ll at least have other answers you seek, he finished. His icy presence faded, giving me back my warmth and a difficult task.

The first part of my difficult task was getting away from Brock.

“Why don’t you help Aspen? And where are Cacus and Bael?”

Brock twisted his head slowly, raising a brow in disbelief. “You heard him. I’m here to guard you. And the demons are most likely hiding in the back.”

“Hiding? They are giant bombs, and they’re hiding?”

“Exactly. They’d level this entire field and kill every one of us if accidentally struck.”

Right.

“Well, I don’t need guarding. Help your prince.”

“He’s fine. It’s all for show. They can’t kill each other, or they’d start a war.”

Another dagger sliced into Aspen from behind, sinking into his leg.

I glared at Brock. “They look hellbent on starting a war. What will your queen do if you return with a dead prince?”

Brock met my glare with his own, but something in his expression told me my words struck.

“That’s what I thought.”

He eyed Aspen, now covered head-toe in blue flames with his uniform still intact.

“If you move from this spot, I’ll take your whole ear,” he said, unsheathing his sword.

“I hope you die,” I said, meaning every word.

He smirked. “They always do.”

Brock leaving me was easier than I thought it’d be. Although, playing on his fear of the queen helped. It was a game of who was the lesser evil—Aspen or the queen who’d most likely kill Brock if anything happened to Aspen. To Brock, I was another female in the long line of females they’d kidnapped. I was disposable to him. Aspen was not.

The next tricky part was sneaking to the tripwire, luring two dangerous pissed-off males to me, and not dying.

A ball of blue flame flashed through the air toward Tavean’s chest. It distracted the Dominion long enough for the dagger swinging in front of Aspen’s face to drop. Tavean’s second dagger melted on contact with Aspen’s flame-coated leather. Relief released the tightness I didn’t know squeezed my chest.

Brock faced off with Milda and her lightning, dodging it as he swiped with his blade. Truly, I hoped the wench won. Because if she didn’t, I was about to be earless.

Sliding to the other edge of the carriage, I jumped down and hurried to the horses. They blocked most of my body as I gazed at the gap in the trees.

I glanced at my cuffs and made the smartest decision I could. Dropping to my hands and knees, covered by the metallic grass, I crawled as fast as I could through the field.

Lightning struck, hitting randomly, giving me mini heart attacks every time. I already tempted death with one lightning strike. Let’s hope death didn’t want me today, either. When one came a foot within reach of my hand, blinding me, I froze.

Ether drove into my nose. The hair on my arms and legs stood erect. Every inch of my mind screamed at me to turn around.

I stayed there staring into the little flames on the ground, seriously reconsidering everything.

“Lucille!” Aspen bellowed.

Shit. I needed to hurry. I couldn’t stop.

“Your mom’s out there. Be brave, Lucy,” I whispered, closing my eyes, and drove to my coiling power in my core. It hummed with a little more energy than before. I pulled at it, and nothing happened.

Another lightning bolt struck nearby.

“Come on. I can do this.” I grasped the humming energy and willed it to listen to me. It was challenging without the prompting from my anger, but I forced it to the surface. A restless energy tingled beneath my skin, accompanied by the faint melody of ice cracking in my ears. When I opened my eyes, purple flames swallowed my hands. A triumphant smile curved my lips as I beheld my accomplishment.

Thunder boomed above my head, reminding me I needed to move.

I scrambled. Fast.

The tiny flames created by the lightning hissed as I crawled over them, leaving icy handprints behind. Despite the danger I was in, I couldn’t keep the grin from my face at the site. I had finally used my power without help from my anger, and I wasn’t overwhelmed by the music or consumed by the desire to kill. If this were any other time, I’d probably jump up and down. I did it.

At the tree line, I found the path and stood, letting go of my power. My smile dropped when I assessed the vicious fight.

Aspen dodged another knife and dragged his sword against Tavean’s leg. Tavean stumbled back. I waved at Aspen, capturing his attention for a second before Tavean attacked. A flash of surprise, worry, and anger overpowered my emotions. I didn’t know why I could feel his emotions at random times. It had to be the guardian bond, but I knew nothing of it. Did I ever end up getting the book for Aspen? If so, I wasn’t sure a couple of sentences would give us much to go on.

I motioned for him to hurry, hoping he saw it and understood what I was trying to say. Then, going off a hunch, hoping he was true to his word, I ran away. More like jogged. Maybe shuffled.

Cuffs sucked.

Up ahead, the dirt road forked into two paths. One shimmered with iridescent light, and the other swirled with darkness. It was a good thing I didn’t have to guess which one was the trip wire. Turning my back on both paths, I waited to see if his highness would come.

Two panic-inducing minutes later, he did, pulling me over his shoulder. He luscelered us through the screen of iridescent colors and into a sweltering landscape of blue-tipped bushes.

“Are you out of your fucking mind, Lucille?” He plopped me on the ground, blue eyes swallowed by flames, seething.

I stood, refusing to let him lord over me. “Obviously not, seeing as we have no raging angels on our tail. I just saved your sorry asses and myself in the process.”

“I had it handled, and you almost got fried by lightning!”

Wouldn’t be the first time.

“Yeah, it sure looked like you had it handled with the knives stabbing into your legs,” I deadpanned, nodding down to his bleeding wounds. If they bothered him, he didn’t let on. Or the rage fueling his fire disguised it.

He took a step toward me. “You are the most infuriating⁠—”

“Naive, ignorant, stupid, helpless, wimp,” I gestured with my hand, acting unphased, bored. A lie hiding the anxiety I came down from. “Any other insults you want to add to your list?”

He squeezed his eyes shut and let out a long breath. “Why are high-ranking angels after you?”

Apprehension twisted the nausea in my stomach. “I don’t know.”

My mom and I had a lot of enemies.

He opened his eyes, staring at me with an unreadable expression until the planes of his face softened. My heart picked up speed as he opened his mouth, nervous about what words would come from such a gentle expression. But before a sound left his lips, something silver flashed through the air.

I flinched to the side, expecting pain. Only to see Aspen jerk, catching the object. The cool metal tip of a knife poked my ear.

For a second, I thought the angels found us. But when I looked over Aspen’s shoulder, all I saw was Brock standing just inside the shimmering barrier, bruised, bloodied, and vengeful.

When I glanced back at Aspen, I didn’t dare breathe.

The veins in his neck popped from how tightly he clenched his jaw, similar to the knuckles erupting from his tightly squeezed fist. He stared with glowing eyes at the knife he caught millimeters from my tipless ear. A hue of red illuminated his chin. But the more he stared, the brighter his power became, and the glowing scar throbbed. Once fire breached Aspen’s eyes, the scar’s light weakened.

“Aspen?” I whispered, afraid to startle him.

He shot his flaming gaze to mine, and pure loathing ravaged his eyes. I stepped back, and that little movement catalyzed his rage. Hot and powerful fire burst from his hands, turning the knife in his palm to molten metal and extinguishing the rest of the glowing red light.

I took a few more steps back, my exposed skin burning from his heat.

In the next breath, he unleashed his sword and channeled the flames into the steel blade. He plunged his sword into the ground, leaving it to turn to Brock.

The sword flickered before me, a viscous inferno separating me from them. I dared a small step toward it, and the blue flames pulsed, marking the ground in a dark line. To cross would be to suffer the consequences of Aspen’s wrath.

He strode to Brock, hands loose at his sides, no longer covered in his power.

Brock retreated a step. “Prince Aspen, I told her to stay in the carriage. She disobeyed my orders. I told her what would happen if she did.”

Aspen swung. A loud crack resounded through the air as Aspen’s fist made contact with Brock’s face, sending the old male to the ground. He jumped on top of Brock, straddling him. “I told you what would fucking happen if you touched her again!” Punch. “I should kill you.” Punch. “The only reason you’re here is because she ordered it.” Punch. Punch.

Brock tried to retaliate, but Aspen’s fists were too fast, stunning him with the force of his blows.

“Always following your own orders.” Punch. “Insubordinate.” Punch. “Fallen scum.”

Brock sputtered, trying to get out words, but Aspen wrapped his hand around Brock’s neck, leaning close. “I swear, the next time you so much as lift a finger at her, I will obliterate you. And don’t think our queen will mind one bit because I’m protecting her asset.”

Aspen leaned back and stood. Brock heaved himself off the ground, eyeing the flaming sword and me. “I don’t remember you being this protective over the other assets we brought in,” he spat. A glob of red landed next to Aspen’s boots.

The flames on the sword leaped. I jumped back.

“I don’t answer to you.”

Brock took a step toward him, a fiendish smile on his face. “No, but I bet the queen would be interested in hearing about the odd feelings I’ve felt from her,” he nodded to me. “And your change of heart.”

I stiffened.

Aspen, an inch taller, met Brock boot to boot, sneering down at the old male. “Will that be before or after I show the queen the tip of her ear?”

Brock sent me a murderous look. “The queen said, mostly intact. She’ll end up torn apart, regardless.”

Aspen corralled him in with a hand, jerking his face. “And I told you completely intact. Touch her, and next time, I won’t hit you with just my skin. Now go get the demons and the rest of our stuff.” He shoved Brock away, waited till he left, and limped over to his dimming sword.

“Come on, we’re not far now,” he said, pulling up the intricate metal. His hand brushed against my palm as he passed me, sending tingles shooting up my arm. “Not getting any younger,” he called when I still didn’t move.

“You’re technically not young at all,” I yelled back.

He laughed. My heart revolted in the best way.

“By angel standards, I am. Now come on, sweetheart.”

I turned to face his back, keeping my feet planted. “Why do you call me that?”

He stopped. “Because I want to.”

“Do you call all your assets, sweetheart?”

A heatwave rustled the hair around my cheek as I waited for him to answer. He refused to turn around and meet my gaze, so I drilled holes into his cloaked back. The same cloak he swaddled me in at Hana’s and used to cover me after the Tusoteuthis attack, calming me with his touches and sewing up my legs. Why was he so contradictory? Was it all for his queen?

“No, just you.” His three words carried on an air of breath, floating to my ears and stabbing a resurfacing ache.

“Well, stop,” I said, finally following him.

We walked in tense silence. I distracted myself by analyzing the unique bushes. Their blue-tipped spikes jutted into our path, looking ready to stab anyone who dared to touch their velvety blue leaves.

“They’re Blue Morsus bushes, lined with microscopic bumps that will cut you and burrow into your skin. They slow an angel’s healing process.”

I veered to the center of the road and thought I heard a chuckle.

Eventually, the feeling of being cooked in an oven lessoned.

“We’re close.”

Goosebumps rose along my arms. “To the boundary line?”

“Yes, we’ll make camp tonight and be there by late morning.”

The tension withdrew from my shoulders. I still had one more night.

“I’m sorry, Lucille.”

I stopped, utterly stunned. Never in my wildest imaginings did I believe sorry was in his vocabulary. He turned around, and I swore if I were still moving, I would’ve tripped over my feet at the openness that lay in his eyes and the sorrow bleeding through our bond.

“I’m sorry for⁠—”

“Stop.”

He took a step toward me. “Luc⁠—”

“Stop apologizing for something you could change!” I snapped, putting distance between us. He followed me until the strides of his legs gained on mine, and he grasped my elbows. The moment he touched me, I lost it.

“I do not want your moon. I do not want your slivers. I want nothing from you. In one moment, you trick me with your sweet little words and actions, then the next, you call me names and let Brock abuse me. My guardian?” I scoffed. “We may have a bond, but you are no guardian.”

His face paled, and I saw and felt a split second of guilt and horror wedge between the indifferent mask he was trying so hard to put back on.

I tried to wrench out of his grip and away from the feelings that had infiltrated my mind at his touch. He soothed something in me, something I thought only my mom could do. But his touch was a lie. Everything was.

“You’d think a guardian would be someone who risked everything to keep the other person safe. Everything.” I spat. “If anyone was ever my guardian, it was my mom.” An ache traveled up my throat, and damn it, I didn’t want to cry in front of him. “But someone took that from me. And now you’re taking the rest.” This time, when I yanked on my arms, he let me go. “Your apologies are worthless when you are in control of my freedom or my death.”

His chin erupted in a deep red light, and his lips flattened.

“My queen wants you. I am loyal to her.”

I took in the twitch in his eye, the red glow beneath his chin, avoiding his plush pink lips. “Why? Why are you loyal? What could she possibly give you? Is it just because she’s your mom?”

The exuding red light flashed off for a moment as agony tore into his eyes and through me.

Did the red light somehow affect our bond? Was that why I only got blips of his emotions at random times?

“She’s not my mom,” he said, jaw fluttering as he gripped his sword so tightly I thought his knuckles might pop out. But the unending pain and guilt making his eyes glassy vanished as his scar illuminated. “I am loyal to my queen.”

“So, you’re blindly loyal?”

“No!”

“Then what? Does she have your mom?” Because the pain and guilt I could taste coming off him was a lot like how Oliver was talking about his sister.

“No, she doesn’t.” He took a step forward, eyes lit up with softly repressed rage, and I, for once, held my ground.

“Does someone else have your mom?”

“No.”

Why was I even trying to figure this out? The damage was already done. But I stared at the flickering light beneath his chin.

“Why does your scar keep glowing?” I asked.

“What?”

Against my better judgment, I placed my thumb over his scar. It zapped me on contact, and he flinched. But the glow receded.

Going off a hunch, I met the hovering flames in his gaze and asked, “What happened to your mom?”

His face dropped as a sickly color washed away the rosy pink of his cheeks. Agony and guilt reared their heartbreaking heads, urging me to rub my sternum. “Murdered.”

I swallowed back my tears, hating that he confused me so thoroughly. Why should I care that his mother and first love were murdered? Isn’t it what he deserved for what he did to others? To me? And yet, for some reason, a deep-seated part of me hurt.

“How?”

Aspen’s eyes glinted. He knew how she was murdered.

“She—”

The scar zapped me as he fought to get the words out.

“Lili—” He tensed.

“How Aspen?”

“Lilith!” he seethed as the scar sent a bolt of searing pain into my thumb and up my arm. I gasped, letting go.

“Who’s Lilith?”

He straightened, composed his face, and stepped back. “I am loyal to my queen.”

I panned between his face and the thing beneath his chin. Goosebumps danced along my spine at whatever the hell that was. It controlled him and what I could feel from him. He didn’t know it. He thought it was a scar.

“Who’s Lilith? She murdered your mother?” I asked again.

Aspen didn’t respond.

But how much did it control him? And why did it fade sometimes but not others? Before I could ask questions or test my theories, clip-clopping and rolling wheels invaded our moment.

We climbed in the back next to Cacus and Bael, who were crunching on—I didn’t want to know.

I sat away from them, glancing at Aspen’s chin as he rested his head against the carriage wall. Then, I took in the rest of him, finding glistening red on his leg.

“You’re bleeding,” I said, keeping any traitorous concern out of my voice.

He grunted.

“So, you’re not going to do anything about your leg?”

Aspen side-eyed me. Any lingering tension from our heated exchange was safely shut away, forgotten, or ignored. How was it so easy for him? Did our conversation blip out of his mind, or did the scar force away his emotions?

“It’ll heal,” he said, taking me out of my puzzling thoughts. “Just like your ribs, wrist, neck, finger, and ear have.”

He was paying close attention.

I raised my finger to my ear, finding smooth skin.

“We heal fast, Lucille.”

“Can you at least put a cloth to it?”

The corner of his lip twitched. “Sure.” He did, up until the carriage stopped.

I climbed out, eyeing Aspen as he winced jumping to the ground. I winced with him. So he could bind and tend to my wounds, but not his own. I shook my head and grabbed my blankets from the back to set up my bed. It was best to keep up pretenses.

Brock, swollen and bruised, set up a fire as he shot me glares where I rested on my blankets. Aspen skinned the meat Cacus and Bael caught. It still surprised me they could catch anything without shoving it down their giant gullets.

When the meat was ready, Aspen limped over with a plate. I peered up at him from under my lashes, the heat of the fire blocked by his body.

“Heals fast?”

“It was deep. It won’t heal in a couple hours, Lucille,” he said, exasperated.

“So, sew it up.”

He handed me the plate of squirrel and ignored my comment. I grabbed it, but he wouldn’t let go when I tugged. Masked by the shadows, I couldn’t see his expression. I dropped my chin to the plate, hoping he’d get the message, and instantly regretted it.

Buttons.

Buttons I ravenously wanted open hours ago stared at me. They were barely visible, but I could still see their silver outlines. My cheeks flushed as an unwelcome shot of desire hit me, along with the mortification of the direction of my dirty thoughts. I looked back up at Aspen, palms slick against the warm metal in my hands.

“Scared, Lucille?” he mocked.

“Only of the truth,” I whispered. What would I do with the unwanted attraction I had for him if somehow he wasn’t the reason behind all his terrible actions? Would it change anything for me?

I didn’t know, and that scared me more than if I did.

He stumbled back, letting go of my plate as if he could read those thoughts in my eyes.

We all ate silently, one of us glaring, one of us staring, and me questioning.

When night fell, there was no king.